


A Place Set Apart

by Tu_Er_Shen



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Captive Prince - Freeform, Emotions, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom Laurent, The sex comes later trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tu_Er_Shen/pseuds/Tu_Er_Shen
Summary: After a chaotic childhood and adolescence that left his parents and brother dead and his uncle and primary caregiver in jail, Laurent Vere decides to leave his normal life behind and use his inheritance to buy a small cottage in the middle of nowhere Alaska, population: one. But all that changes overnight when the town’s population doubles and Laurent finds himself with an unexpected house guest.





	1. A Quiet Place

**Author's Note:**

> The sexy parts will come later, trust me. Kind of slow burn in the beginning but I just love Laurent's character so I couldn't pass up the chance to write about what's going on behind that cold-shoulder face of his. This will be a multi-chaptered work. Not sure how many chapters...however many it takes. Please let me know in the comments if you enjoy my work! Constructive criticism is also welcome! Thanks for reading!

It was the questions that pushed him over the edge.  


“Are you okay?” “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” “How are you doing?”  


Sure, people were just trying to be nice, but it got to a point where it wasn’t nice anymore. Instead, every question was just a stabbing reminder that his whole life had been like the jackpot from hell. They became little pitying remarks and sideways glances cast upon him whenever anyone talked about their family life or their childhood. “Poor boy,” he could tell they were thinking, “parents and brother murdered when he was young, molested by his own uncle. Poor boy.” Laurent couldn’t take it anymore.  


He had tried to get away from it by spending some of his inheritance money to go to a college across the country, but in the digital era all it took was a few seconds to Google someone and you could know their whole life story. He thought maybe after getting a Master’s degree people would realize that he had grown up and he no longer lived in the shadow of his past, but that shadow seemed to have other ideas, following him around wherever he went. Four cities, two degrees, and three jobs later, Laurent couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand the knowing looks and rubs on the shoulder that told him someone had done a little digging on the internet and unearthed his past. He had always been a reserved child, but now it seemed whatever warmth was within him had frozen solid. He cut ties with all his friends and family, told his employer he could only work remotely, and, on a whim, bought a small cottage in the middle of nowhere in Alaska, becoming the town’s only permanent resident.  


Laurent wouldn’t say that he was happy, but he couldn’t really remember a time in his life when he was very happy. The mild feeling of contentment that peaked through his overwhelming sense of melancholy and dissatisfaction every now and again when he gazed out at the cold Alaskan water through the dense pine trees was enough to make him feel justified in his choice to leave his old life behind. Laurent and his cat—named affectionately for his older brother, Auguste—were the only year-round residents in the small town that he inhabited. There was an older married couple that spent their summers in a cabin about twenty minutes by car from where Laurent lived, and the occasional government official that came to check on the solar farm that stretched across several dozen acres of land. It was an hour and a half drive to anything, so Laurent only went into town only a few times a month to pick up his mail and get groceries. That was enough socialization for him.  


To an outsider it might have seemed like Laurent was living an empty life. There were no pictures on his walls of people he cared about, no rings left on his coffee table from having friends over, no warmth among the cool blue and grey sweaters that hung in his closet. But to Laurent, it was enough. What he couldn’t buy in town he ordered online, and in addition to the small cottage, he had a small greenhouse for gardening and a one-bed one-bath “guest house” that was on the edge of the property that Laurent used as an art studio to keep himself busy. Sometimes he craved company and the affection of someone that he didn’t have to talk to in order to tell them what he needed, but he usually brushed those urges away, reminding himself of all the judgement that came along with company, all the pain that wasn’t worth it, all of the reasons that he chose to move away in the first place.  


Money was no concern for Laurent. He had received quite a large inheritance and settlement, but even still he continued to work—it gave him something to do. With Auguste curled up in his lap and a cup of coffee balanced on his knee, Laurent passed his days reading and editing manuscripts and screenplays, shooting emails back to his employer at the publishing company he worked for and the clients who had hired him as a freelance editor. He was currently working with a client who was trying to write a cutting-edge mystery horror which Laurent thought was getting worse and worse with each revision despite his best efforts. He was in the middle of what was supposed to be the books gruesome climax, drearily turning the pages as the harsh wind pelted cold rain against the windows when he was wrenched out of his mundane mediocrity by a brute pounding at his door. Laurent never got visitors, and it seemed especially strange that somebody would make the drive out to the middle of nowhere to pound on the door of a small cottage that practically looked empty. At the abrupt sound, Auguste bolted off Laurent’s lap with a yowl, smashing his half-full coffee cup on the floor and causing Laurent to drop the manuscript into the spreading coffee puddle in shock. He snatched the manuscript up before it could get entirely soaked, throwing it on the coffee table before quietly approaching the door.  


Through the small window of faceted glass on the door, Laurent could make out a tall figure who appeared to be dressed in a yellow rain slicker that was soaked over with a wet dog by their side. He made note of the large walking stick leaning up against the coat rack before cracking the door without undoing the multiple chains keeping it locked.  


“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want whatever you’re selling,” he said coldly.  


The large man was thoroughgoingly drenched from head to toe, as was his dog, and both looked at Laurent with cold, wet faces, their eyes begging. The man’s mouth gaped open slightly at the sight of Laurent, who snorted at him in distaste and made to close the door.  


“No! Wait, please!” the man interjected, putting his hand on the door to keep it from shutting. “I’m not selling anything. I was sailing off the coast of…wherever this is…when the weather turned bad and threw by boat up on shore behind your house. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call the coast guard.”  


Laurent squinted his eyes at him. “Wait here,” he said, shutting the door tightly in his face. He walked over to the back window, looking out over the yard through the trees down toward the shore. Sure enough, there was a mid-sized sailing boat tipped up on the rocky coast looking to be in rough condition. Laurent returned and cracked the door open again. “Let me be clear: if you try anything smart I won’t hesitate to kill you,” he hissed, being completely serious.  


The man threw his hands up in the air. “As soon as the coast guard comes I’ll be out of your hair, I swear,” he said, smiling.  


Laurent frowned in response but undid the locks and opened the door just slightly more. The man stepped in, dripping all over Laurent’s expensive entryway rug as his dog rushed between his legs.  


“Kastor! No!” the man shouted, but it was too late, the dog shook himself out in the middle of Laurent’s living room, spraying Laurent and all the furniture around with the scent of wet dog.  


“Agh, Kastor!” the man sighed, helplessly. He turned to Laurent. “I’m so sorry, he’s been cooped up on a boat for weeks he’s usually very obedient and he ne-”  


“The phone is in the kitchen,” Laurent cut in abruptly, wiping his face before glaring at the man. “Use it and get out.”  


“Okay, again, I’m really sorry,” he held out his hand to Laurent. “I’m Damen, by the way.”  


“I don’t care who you are I just want you out of my house as fast as possible,” Laurent said curtly. “And tell your damn dog to stop wagging his tail and getting everything so fucking wet.”  


Damen turned slightly red, unused to being addressed in such a short tone. “Of course, so sorry.” He snapped his fingers and Kastor came trotting to his side, sitting obediently on the rug beside his master. Damen whispered something to him under his breath and the dog laid down on the rug, resting his tail and head on the floor. Damn hung his coat and hat on Laurent’s coat rack, leaving his wet shoes soaking on the carpet as he walked into the kitchen wearing socks that were just as wet.  


Laurent perched on the edge of the coffee table, trying to keep from getting the furniture wetter while not taking his eyes off of the mangy mutt laying on his carpet and keeping Damen in his peripheral vision. “I fucking hate people,” he said, mostly to himself but also partly to Kastor. “And dogs almost as much.”  


Damen stepped out from the kitchen, standing tall and calm under Laurent’s withering gaze. “The coast guard can’t get out here until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest since my situation isn’t exactly an emergency. Would you be able to drive me to the nearest hotel-motel-bed-and-breakfast-whatever might be around here?”  


“No,” came Laurent’s short response.  


“O-oh…” Damen was slightly shocked. “Can I ask why?”  


“Because it’s two fucking hours away and I don’t feel like driving for four hours only to see you and your ugly dog right back here tomorrow morning trying to get your boat fixed.”  


Damen dipped his chin slightly as if nodding in agreement.  


“Can’t you just sleep on your damn boat?” Laurent asked, picking up his wet manuscript and pushing past Damen to get a towel from the kitchen. Hospitality was not among Laurent’s strengths, but at this point, he was actively trying to get rid of Damn while simultaneously telling him that he couldn’t leave.  


“There’s a breach in the hull so she’s all filled with water which would make sleeping a little hard I imagine,” Damen said, turning to follow him. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. Maybe I could just walk to your neighbor’s house?”  


“I don’t have neighbors. Nobody else lives within 30 minutes of here,” Laurent replies bitterly.  


“Damn, you really do live in the middle of nowhere.”  


Laurent braced his arms against the sink, exhaling loudly through his nose. “Yes, I do. Why?” He turned around to look at Damen. “Because I can’t stand people. Or dogs. Or anyone.”  


The sound of the cold rain beat against the windows as they stared at each other in silence, Laurent stewing with impatience and Damen trying to figure out what to make of his conundrum. Finally, Laurent threw the towel he was clenching at Damen. Damen seemed to be about his age, and though he was large—very large in fact, his shoulders barely fit through the door frame and he was almost as tall as it as well—he didn’t seem aggressive or dangerous, and Laurent felt like he would know if he was in danger.  


Damen deftly caught the towel, calmly returning Laurent’s gaze, his eyes still pleading for grace.  


“I’ll save us both the hassle. You,” he ordered, pointing at Damen. “Clean up the mess that your dog made and stop dripping all over my goddamn floor. I’ll find you something…” Laurent trailed off, caught up by the fact that he was thinking about the broad, wet plane of Damen’s chest, the curve of his waist, the tightness of his—no, he wasn’t going to do that. “You can sleep on the sofa,” he said, pushing past him again, hoping to hide the flush coming to his face. “Only for tonight.”  


“Thank yo-” Damen called after him, but Laurent walked away to find something large enough to fit Damen’s gigantic figure before he could acknowledge him.  


The rest of the evening passed without notice. Laurent reeled in his displeasure at Damen’s intrusion on his personal space, his face becoming hard and unmoving like stone, responding to Damen’s questions about using the shower and handling dinner with a cool, emotionless tone. He refrained from spending his energy on emotions, instead choosing to assess Damen—and the now dry Kastor laying in front of the fireplace—with a steady, even gaze that revealed nothing of his curiosity. Laurent also suppressed the urge to ask Damen what he was doing sailing off the coast of middle-of-nowhere Alaska, but he didn’t want to seem interested and make Damen think he was invested in getting to know him because he absolutely did not want to get to know him. Not mentally, not emotionally, and certainly not physically, although Laurent was uncomfortable to admit that he had thought about it half a dozen times in the few short hours that Damen had been here. It had been so long, and he wouldn’t see him again, so it seemed almost perfect…but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

* * *

Auguste had refused to come out of Laurent’s bedroom since the new smells had intruded on his cozy habitat, and Laurent was inclined to do the same, but he forced himself to sit in the living room, pretending to read over his manuscript as Damen laundered his clothes—and everything in Laurent’s hamper without asking—and went about drying out the furniture and making tea. Laurent was conflicted about how quickly Damen had adapted to his house. He already seemed to know where things were, but then again perhaps it was just intuitive at a certain point. After all where else are you doing to put silverware except for a drawer beneath the kitchen counter?  


Damen, making up for a very poor introduction, tidied himself in the bathroom and then cleaned the whole thing, made dinner, cleaned Laurent’s dirty dishes, washed his clothes, stoked the fire, and even managed to dry out Laurent’s rug. If the whole situation hadn’t been so unusual Laurent might have found it strange, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to care, so he continued pretending to read his manuscript while Damen attended to cleaning up the mess that Kastor had made.  


At dinner, Damen attempted to make casual conversation with Laurent, to little avail.  


“How long have you lived here?”  


“Not long enough.”  


“And you like being alone.”  


“Yes.”  


“You really get no visitors?”  


“None.”  


“Not even family?”  


“Don’t have any.”  


Damen’s cutlery skittered across his plate, a break in his easy-going appearance. “Oh…I’m sorry.”  


“Why should you be? It’s not like you have anything to do with it,” Laurent sipped his tea placidly.  


“It’s just…I know what it’s like,” he looked across at Laurent, trying to catch his eye, but Laurent busied himself with his food. “To be alone.”  


“I’m not alone. I have Auguste.”  


Damen laughed. “Right, like I have Kastor. He’s nice, but he’s not a human. He’s not you.”  


Laurent looked up at Damen, surprise spreading across his face before he quickly masked it. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”  


“Oh! Nothing, nothing…he’s just…he can’t talk, he can’t give advice, or yell at me for dripping all over his goddamn floor.”  


Laurent did his best to suppress his laugh into a nonchalant snort, but he couldn’t hide the smile that played at the corner of his lips.  


"I saw that!” Damen said, grinning stupidly from ear to ear. “You do have a sense of humor.”  


“Stop it,” Laurent said plainly, trying to stop Damen before he got on a role.  


“I knew there was a friendly side to you!”  


“Stop it!” Laurent’s fork clashed against his plate with a loud clang.  


Damen became stoic.  


“We’re not friends. You can do all the chores you want, we’re not friends,” his face was emotionless, but something in his voice was cold and almost sad. “Tonight, you can sleep on my sofa because you have nowhere else to go, but tomorrow you leave.” Laurent didn’t add that he didn’t want to see Damen again, because as much as he wanted to be alone he knew that was a bold-faced lie and he needed Damen to be gone before he did something really stupid.  


They finished dinner in silence, with Damen offering to clean up and taking Laurent’s empty stare and exit to mean yes.  


Laurent spent a long time standing under the hot, beating water of the shower head. He rubbed his face, remembering why he decided to move away in the first place. Life was relatively easy—you get up, you eat, you work, you clean, you go to bed, you repeat. People, on the other hand, were complicated. Everyone had their own feelings and needs and emotions, but the worst part was getting involved, forming relationships. Every relationship that Laurent had hurt him, even though some of them were no longer “real” in a sense that the people he was involved with were no longer alive or far away from him, like his dead brother and his incarcerated uncle. Still, they hurt him. They hurt him every waking hour of every day and sometimes they even hurt him at night in his dreams, and Damen coming into his house and trying to get involved with him, even only as a passing acquaintance, brought everything right up to the surface.  


As he stepped out of the shower, he weighed his options. On the one hand, Laurent wanted to go out into the living room—where Damen was no doubt alphabetizing Laurent’s books or something else that was obnoxiously helpful—and tell Damen everything about his whole life, pouring himself out so as to finally feel empty, to finish things. There was something gentle and compassionate in Damen's eyes that Laurent hadn't seen in years. He wasn't condescending or arrogant, rather he seemed so genuinely honest. When Dame told Laurent that he knew what it was like to be alone Laurent thought that he felt comfortable for once, like maybe he didn't have to always be alone. But, on the other hand, he knew that if he opened up Damen would give him such a look of disgust and contempt that Laurent would just hurt all the more, and it would be pointless to even try. Laurent wasn’t going to take that risk. As soon as he opened the bathroom door he walked straight past the living room where Damen was reclined on the couch reading something he had found on one of the bookshelves.  


Damen glanced over, bring the book to rest on his chest. “Off to bed so early?” he asked, attempting to reassemble the bridge that had been burned at dinner.  


“I’ve had quite an eventful day relative to usual, so as you can imagine I am quite tired,” he responded, and he was tired, he could feel heaviness in his bones. “Good night, Damen.”  


“Good night…” Damen trailed off awkwardly, realizing he didn’t know how to fill in the blank with a name.  


“Laurent.”  


Damen smiled, “That’s a nice name, it suits you. Good night, Laurent.”


	2. Universal Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the small window, Laurent saw Damen’s gentle eyes watching him. Laurent’s first instinct was to turn away and hide the blush on his face, but he resisted, holding Damen’s gaze for several seconds. Damen drew the curtains shut before Laurent could turn red, but Laurent could have sworn that he saw a smile play across his lips before he did.

Laurent started awake by the screaming of a coast guard boat siren. Auguste’s small head popped up on the pillow next to Laurent’s with a shocked meow—clearly, life in what was supposed to be Laurent’s quiet sanctuary was becoming far too disturbed for Auguste’s tastes. From his window on the back of the house, Laurent could see Damen practically skipping out to meet the coast guard with Kastor bouncing along at his side. Laurent grumbled, irritated by how obnoxiously easy-going Damen could clearly be so early in the morning, especially after just having been roused by a blaring siren.

Slowly, he rose from bed wrapping himself up in a thick cardigan to guard against the cool chill that had settled across the small house as the fire had died out over the night. Edging closer to the window, Laurent watched Damen exchange words with one of the men from the coast guard. Both were gesturing passionately to the boat and Damen appeared to be getting defensive. Even from a distance, Laurent could see that Damen had rushed out of the house without thinking much about how cold the air would be and was neglecting to wear a shirt, a pair of Laurent’s largest sweatpants clinging almost uncomfortably close to his muscled thighs. Laurent told himself that he should look away, mind his own business, but Damen’s physique was breathtaking. 

Laurent watched as Damen shook hands with the coast guard officials and stood off to the side as they carried some things off of his boat, setting them on the bank at the edge of Laurent’s property before hooking up his boat and towing it away. Damen picked up and carried what looked like two large and heavy trunks with relative ease, throwing one up on his shoulder and carrying the other by a side handle. Laurent couldn’t help gaping at the pure strength Damen posed, his smooth chest rippling with the muscles of a man who spent his days working, not reclining on a couch reading shitty manuscripts. Laurent wasn’t in terrible shape, he had kept the semblance of a fit man’s body by handling all the work splitting wood and making repairs around the house himself, but Damen’s level of physique was of a whole other caliber, practically god-like. 

Damen caught Laurent’s gaze through the window, causing Laurent to wrap himself even more tightly in the cardigan, pulling the collar shut with one hand and wrapping the other around his waist trying to hide the red tinge that was covering his body and betraying his obvious desire. Damen grinned at him, but there was nothing sinister or knowing in his face as Laurent had expected. He hollered something about getting the door because his hands were full, gesturing towards the back of Laurent’s house. Laurent slowly stepped away from the window, sinking down onto the bed momentarily and looking over at Auguste who was merely grooming himself impassively. Laurent’s heart was jumping in his chest at the clear implications of what he had just watched out the window. The coast guard had taken Damen’s boat away, at least temporarily for repairs or what not, but Damen had remained, and he was more exquisite than Laurent had imagined. Yesterday, Laurent had been unsure as to how this situation was going to play out, but not he was certain: he was fucked, big time. 

Laurent shook his head. “It’s fine…” he muttered to himself. “It’s not forever, nothing is forever.” But the ache in his heart—in his soul—said otherwise, as he went to get the door for his apparent new house guest.

* * *

After Damen had briefed Laurent on the situation, which was exactly what Laurent had expected, he did his best to try and get out of Laurent’s hair. He inquired about places to stay further inland, to which Laurent replied that further inland was Canadian wilderness and in the opposite direction, across the ocean, was Russia. He asked again if there were any neighbors that he could stay with, and Laurent reminded him that there were none as it was going into autumn and all two of his summer neighbors had left weeks ago. Finally, Damen asked if there were people in town who would let him live with them if he offered to do work for them, and in response to this Laurent told Damen that he was probably the friendliest person with a five-hundred-mile radius. This earned Laurent a hearty laugh from Damen, but Laurent wasn’t joking. As Damen’s laughed tapered off, it seemed they had reached a stalemate. Then Damen’s eyes colored over with an idea. 

“What about your guest house?” 

Laurent looked up from rinsing his coffee mug in the sink. “My guest house?” 

“The one out back down by the shoreline.” 

Slowly, Laurent turned, giving Damen an appraising look. “What about my guest house?” He didn’t like the idea of Damen staying on his couch, that was far too close for comfort, especially considering all the dangerous thoughts he had been having about Damen over just the past day and a half. 

“It’s a place to sleep, and that’s really all I need,” Damen said. “If you’re okay with letting me use your kitchen I can cook my own food, I’ll keep out of your way, and I can even pay rent if you’d like—although I don’t know how much I’ll be able to spare after the coast guard gouges me for their services and the marina bills me for repairs.” He absently traced his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip. 

“What kind of person sails around with no idea as to where they are and without enough money?” Laurent asked, more rhetorically than anything else. 

“The kind of person who’s running from something,” Damen said quietly. 

Laurent froze at the sink, a red flag popping up in the back of his mind. “Running?” He caught Damen’s gaze and was surprised to see that it wasn’t alarmed, in fact, if anything it appeared to be lonely and abandoned. “What from?” Laurent tried not to betray his own interest, but now that it seemed like Damen might be staying around, at least for a brief time, so maybe getting to know him a little better wouldn’t be the worst idea. Just so Laurent knew he was actually hosting, nothing more. 

Damen gave a thin smile, unable to cover the apparent gloom that he was sitting in for the first time since he had arrived. “Like I said, I know what it’s like to be alone.” 

As he slowly returned to washing dishes at the sink, Laurent felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. If he chose to dive off, there would be no coming back to the solid ground where he at least knew he couldn’t get hurt, but if he chose to stay in the same place, he would never know what might be at the bottom of the waters behind Damen’s dark eyes. To jump or not to jump? One more question could be the first stone removed that would cause Laurent’s carefully practiced and constructed façade of contentment to crumble. And that was the problem. Laurent was always hurting, and trying not to hurt, so why should it matter if getting to know Damen hurt him even more than he already did? It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to handle it, he always had, returning to his manuscripts and his solitude to quiet the voices in his head that told him he didn’t deserve anything or anyone. But didn’t he at least deserve a chance? Was it really better to feel nothing so as not to feel anything at all? 

Damen sat quietly at the table, sipping his coffee, rubbing Kastor’s head as Laurent fought a mental battle only a few feet away, scalding his hands with hot water. He wondered if Damen expected something in response, and he realized he wouldn’t know unless he ventured a response because he had no real idea who Damen was. That was the trouble with people: when you didn’t know them, they could be anything you wanted them to be, but once you got involved and it became clear who they were, you couldn’t change them. 

“Want a hand drying those?” Damen said, interrupting Laurent’s trance, already rising to grab the towel off the counter and take the skillet that had been used to make breakfast from Laurent’s frozen hand. 

Laurent let Damen take it from his grasp, continuing with the plates, cups, and casserole dish soaking in the hot water. “What do mean?” he asked softly, a hint of curiosity and tenderness in his voice. 

His tone seemed to catch Damen by surprise. “I don’t…understand?” 

“What do you know about being alone?” Laurent ventured, running his hand around the edge of a plate, taking the dive. “And what does that have to do with you turning up at my door lost and wet, with hardly any money?” 

Damen smirked slightly at Laurent, who saw his eyebrows from the corner of his eye. “Oh, so you want to be friends now?” Damen said, somewhat sarcastically. 

“If you’re going to be a dick about you can sleep in the woods with the bears for all I care,” Laurent snapped, embarrassment coloring his face. “I mean, Jesus Christ, I’d at least like to know you’re not a murderer or a fugitive. This isn’t exactly easy for me, you know.” 

Laurent immediately regretted the final words as they came out of his mouth. He scolded himself for revealing too much, for making his vulnerability known. He needed to maintain an attitude of aloof carelessness, but the longer—and closer—Damen was around, the harder that seemed to be. 

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, taking another dish from Laurent with a small smile. 

There was a lull in conversation before he spoke again. 

“My dad died a few months ago. Cancer,” he said in a throaty voice, drying the last of the dishes as Laurent drained the sink. “Apparently, he had been terminal for months, but he didn’t want us to worry so he didn’t say anything until it was too late to even matter.” Damen let out a sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deep and dark. 

Laurent settled into a chair at the small kitchen table, watching Damen dry and seek out homes for the dishes as he spoke. He watched the subtle changes in Damen’s expression illuminated by the warm, yellow light in the small room. His face was handsome, but not in a gaudy way, with a strong jawline and smooth features. His thick, black lashes gave him a sort of boyish look. 

“My mother was—is—hysterical with grief. She went to live with her sisters and I couldn’t bring myself to visit her, because every time she sees me she just cries and cries.” Damen put the towel down and leaned up against the counter, staring out the small kitchen window before bringing his stare to rest upon Laurent’s face. 

Laurent was surprised by the amount of sadness that he saw there. 

“My brother turned into somebody I didn’t know. He came into all my father’s assets and responsibilities and the pressure crushed him. He became cold, distant, always angry.” 

Laurent couldn’t help shifting under Damen’s gaze. Damen was so comfortable opening up about what was clearly a very painful experience for him, and here was Laurent: cold, distant, and always angry. If only Damen knew who he had traded a brother for. 

“He got in with some bad people, gabbling away my father’s money and drinking to forget about his pain. Got himself killed.” Damen crossed his arms. “My mother ran to her sisters, my brother ran to gambling and alcohol, and I didn’t know what to run to, so I just chartered a boat and packed everything I had. It’s kind of a miracle I’m even alive,” he said, laughing halfheartedly, his eyes wet and glistening with the beginnings of tears. “So that’s what I know about being alone.” 

Laurent didn’t know how to respond. This part of conversations had always confused him. Was he supposed to open up and reveal his own confessions now? Usually, he erred on the side of privacy and said nothing, but that didn’t seem appropriate considering that Damen had just bared everything to him with such honesty. 

Silence filled the room. 

Damen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and gently rubbed Kastor’s head as the dog came to press his face to Damen’s thigh. 

“You can stay,” Laurent said evenly, not know what else to say. 

“What?” Damen replied, looking up. 

“In the guest house. You can stay. Until your boat is fixed.” 

The warmth returned to Damen’s face as a broad smile spread across his face. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” 

* * *

Laurent silently helped Damen bring his trunks filled with clothes and books and family heirlooms out to the guest house as Damen filled the space with easy-going one-sided conversation about how Damen’s wardrobe was sorely in need of warmer layers in the cold climate of Alaska, and how maybe it was a blessing he had washed up, maybe it was a sign from the gods that he should go buy a coat. Damen easily moved the furniture in the small cabin-like guest house around to make it appropriate for sleeping and bathing as there wasn’t really space for much else. 

Damen broke from his rhetorical chattering to address Laurent after the furniture had been arranged. “You know, you’re actually the first person I’ve talked to since I left.” 

“Oh?” Laurent replied, trying not to sound like that made him feel special, even though it made a chord deep inside him sing in a way it hadn’t done so in a long time. 

“Yeah, and you’re the first person I’ve told about everything that happened,” Damen said, lacing his fingers casually as he sat on the edge of the double bed that was sure to be short for him. “A lot of people know, obviously, because they’ve read about it in the obits and the news, but it feels good to actually tell someone. It feels a little more like I’m in control of my own life and a little less like life is just happening to me.” 

Laurent bit down on his lower lip. If only he could feel that way, because it certainly felt like life just threw him about willy-nilly and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t escape it, even by moving to the middle of nowhere. The shadow of his past still found him, even if this time it showed up looking like a six foot four ruggedly handsome and sensitive man. Laurent was still acutely aware that Damen’s arrival brought with it the resurfacing of certain feelings that Laurent had pushed down for a long time. 

Once again, Damen’s voice broke through Laurent’s trace. 

“How can I make it up to you? I know this is an inconvenience.” 

The very first thing that came to Laurent’s mind involved Damen’s body, unclothed and in his bed, making it up to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that Damen wouldn’t notice the warmth in his face, especially after the voyeuristic spectacle that morning, Laurent was already betraying far more than he was comfortable. 

“I don’t want your money,” Laurent replied coolly. 

“I have to do something for you,” Damen insisted. “I’m imposing on you.” 

There were a lot of things that Laurent wouldn’t mind letting Damen do for him, but he reminded himself that this was only a temporary situation, and even letting his guard down a little bit wasn’t any excuse to take things to a point that he would later regret. Instead of asking for what he really wanted, Laurent told Damen about some of the more laborious chores around the house: chopping wood, making sure that the trees around the house were healthy and limbing them so they wouldn’t cause any property damages, and fixing some of the roofing and siding on the main house before the really bad weather started to set in. 

Damen was more than happy to oblige Laurent’s requests, with only one other small favor to ask. 

“Could you take me into town sometime to buy a decent coat and some warm clothes?” He gestured to Laurent’s form-fitting sweatpants that he was still wearing and alluded to the multitude of shorts and t-shirts that were in his trunks. “Something that allows for a little mobility,” he said with a laugh. 

Laurent averted his eyes from the obvious shape of Damen’s cock imprinted in the front of the tight pants. It appeared to be obnoxiously large, just like the rest of him, and Laurent could feel his body tighten up just thinking about the length of it pressing into him. It was damn near impossible to think straight with Damen around. Laurent hoped that the distance of having Damen sleeping in the guest house would prevent him from making any poor choices, but something told him that it wasn’t the distance that would impact what had clearly become a relationship of some kind, it was the time. And oh, were they going to have time. In the middle of nowhere, there was nothing but time. 

As he walked back to the house, giving Damen some space to get settled in, Laurent ran his fingers through his hair, an anxious habit. Something inside him stirred and Laurent looked back over his shoulder toward the guest house. In the small window, Laurent saw Damen’s gentle eyes watching him. Laurent’s first instinct was to turn away and hide the blush on his face, but he resisted, holding Damen’s gaze for several seconds. Damen drew the curtains shut before Laurent could turn red, but Laurent could have sworn that he saw a smile play across his lips before he did.


	3. A Personal Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop thinking,” Damen said, place a hand dangerously close to Laurent’s on the counter. “You’re thinking about saying something. Should I, shouldn’t I, should I, shouldn’t I? And then you never do. Stop thinking, just say it.”
> 
> Laurent felt his breath leave his lung. He held onto the sink like it was a lifeline. Damen’s thumb softly caressed Laurent’s knuckles and his heart caught in his throat.
> 
> “Say it,” Damen repeated.

It had been a little more than a week since Damen has settled into Laurent’s guest house—and his life—and Laurent was still getting used to having near 24/7 companionship. Damen lifted his weight and then some around the house, attending to almost everything that Laurent had put on a very long to-do list of household repairs and chores within the first few days of staying with Laurent. In return, Laurent had generously ordered Damen clothes that would actually fit him and keep him warm so that he didn’t have to keep wearing Laurent’s one pair of too-tight sweatpants to bed.

As the days slowly passed, Laurent came to see Damen’s presence as less of an intrusion and more of an appreciable opportunity. Damen was a good cook and he knew how to enjoy a glass (or three) of wine in the evenings, and he was surprisingly well versed in pop culture and national politics meaning that Laurent finally had someone to talk to who was passionately interested in United States foreign policy and global affairs. Auguste had gradually warmed up to the idea of Damen being present in the house and had even made a fireside appearance the past few evenings, though he was still keeping some distance from Kastor. 

One evening, over a bottle of wine, Laurent had unwittingly opened up about Auguste while Damen was reminiscing about the conversations that he used to have with his brother before his father passed away. Something about Damen’s openness and honesty made Laurent feel secure and unashamed of his own past, and with a little wine flowing through his veins, Laurent had allowed Auguste’s name to wistfully slip from his lips. 

“What was your brother like?” Damen asked, taking a sip from his glass. 

Laurent steeled his face. Auguste could be a can of worms to talk about, but Laurent ventured that it would be okay just so long as he left his uncle out of the equation. “He was…everything,” Laurent said, leaning back against the coffee table, his legs stretched out in front of the small fire. “He was ten years older than me. Our parents weren’t always around because they were so busy running their business, so August more or less raised and took care of me. He was a good listener.” Like you, Laurent thought. 

“How old was he?” Damen asked in a tender voice that made Laurent’s chest ache. 

“He was twenty-two when he died…I’m older than he ever was now, but somehow it feels like I’ll never be old enough to take care of myself the way Auguste could take care of me.” Laurent took another sip of his wine to still his lips before he said something even more vulnerable. He had never talked about Auguste like this to anyone before. 

“You seem to be doing just fine,” Damen commented, gesturing generally to the house. 

Laurent chewed on his bottom lip, staring into the fire. 

“Are you not?” came Damen’s soft question. 

“I’m tired,” Laurent replied. It was partly a response to Damen’s question and partly an excuse to extricate himself from the conversation. 

“Laurent…” Damen’s voice trailed after him as Laurent took the bottle of wine back to the kitchen. No matter how many times he heard it, Laurent couldn’t get used to how much he enjoyed hearing Damen say his name. 

Laurent rinsed out his glass with warm soapy water. He could hear Damen get up from the living room and enter the kitchen, could feel him come and stand behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t—” 

“It’s not you,” Laurent said, placing his cup in the drying rack. “It’s just…it’s been a long time since…since I’ve really talked like this to anyone.” He braced his arms on the edge of the sink and looked out the kitchen window. The night was pitch black and the window acted as a mirror, reflecting Laurent’s tousled hair and wine-flushed cheeks. Laurent could see Damen’s brows knit together as he placed his empty glass on the counter next to Laurent. Laurent could smell Damen’s musky skin next to his as Damen leaned past him to do so. His grip on the sink tightened. 

“Is that what you meant when you said this wasn’t easy for you?” Damen’s voice was soft, and he was standing close enough to Laurent that when he spoke, tendrils of Laurent’s hair brushed Laurent’s cheek with the force of his breath. 

Laurent forced himself to swallow down the tension rising in his throat. He had come to learn that Damen was very comfortable with physical closeness, and he had observed how Damen seemed to restrain himself from touching Laurent whenever possible after he had caused Laurent to drop a bundle of firewood on his foot by placing his hand on the small of his back. Laurent was unused to the sensation that he got from Damen’s physical presence. He had never really found himself physically attracted to anyone, even when he had tried to trick himself into developing feelings for his first—and only—college boyfriend by having sex with him. The way that Damen’s scent and voice made Laurent’s heart race terrified him just as much as it excited him. 

“What are you running from, Laurent?” 

Laurent turned around to face Damen. Damen’s closeness meant that their faces were no more than a hands-width apart, far closer than Laurent had expected. 

Damen’s eyes searched his face, lingering on his lips before coming to meet his gaze. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed the way that you let me do all the talking? The way you seem to fold in on yourself at the first mention of family?” Damen’s voice was barely more than a whisper between them. 

Almost every night, Laurent would catch Damen’s eyes appraising him before Damen parted to go sleep in the guest house. His eyes would be so gentle, and yet so hungry, filled a sense of forbidden desire. Damen’s eyes on him now were like that. They seemed to convey compassion, but there was something more to them, almost like a curiosity, and it made Laurent’s stomach feel light and warm. 

Realization dawned on Damen’s face as he searched Laurent’s troubled eyes. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” His voice was as gentle as ever, with no hint of cunning or pleasure as Laurent might have expected those words to be said. 

Laurent hadn’t taken his eyes from Damen’s, and he wasn’t about to start now. “You could say that,” he responded, trying to sound coolly distant and apathetic. Instead, the words came out in a hushed voice inundated with emotion and uncertainty. 

A silence settled over the house. Neither of them moved. Damen stood before Laurent, his posture easy and relaxed. At any moment, Laurent could have simply pushed past him, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood, his body as taut as a bowstring, his fingers pressing into the edge of the sink behind him. 

“But…” Laurent spoke up softly, “I wouldn’t say that it’s a bad feeling.” 

One of Damen’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Laurent wondered if he had taken that as a confession. 

Laurent’s eyes flickered briefly to Damen’s lips. He was so close that he could smell the scent of wine on his breath, combined with the scent of his own shampooed hair and Damen’s distinctly pine-y aroma. His lips were full and soft looking, tinted slightly red from the wine. Laurent thought about how they might feel pressing against his own, how Damen’s soft curls would feel as he pressed his fingers into his scalp and urged their bodies to be closer. He wanted so badly to lean forward the few mere inches that separated them and close the space between them, filling the space in his chest, even if only briefly. But once done that move could not be taken back, it would have repercussions, consequences that would impact their relationship and possibly make the next two weeks hell…or bliss, it was hard to tell, and Laurent wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out. 

“No.” 

In close quarters, Damen’s soft voice sounded like it was booming. Laurent’s eyes snapped back up to meet Damen’s, startled by his sudden statement. 

“What?” Laurent ventured quietly. 

“Stop thinking,” Damen said, place a hand dangerously close to Laurent’s on the counter. “You’re thinking about saying something. Should I, shouldn’t I, should I, shouldn’t I? And then you never do. Stop thinking, just say it.” 

Laurent felt his breath leave his lung. He held onto the sink like it was a lifeline. Damen’s thumb softly caressed Laurent’s knuckles and his heart caught in his throat. 

“Say it,” Damen repeated. 

“Kiss me,” Laurent blurted out. His own words shocked him—he hadn’t expected to actually hear himself say what he was thinking. 

Damen didn’t look the slightest bit surprised. He lifted his hand from the counter and brought it up to the back of Laurent’s neck, tipping his head up and closing the distance between them with his lips. 

The sensation in Laurent’s stomach exploded like fireworks at the touch of Damen’s lips. They were warm, and soft, and tasted slightly of wine. Laurent parted his lips unthinkingly, seeking for better purchase against Damen’s mouth. He felt Damen’s tongue slide into his mouth, the heat of it going straight to his cock which Laurent realized was growing uncomfortably firm in his jeans. His hands had left the sink edge, one was in Damen’s hair, fingertips pressing into the back of his scalp, and the other was pressed flat against the plane of Damen’s chest, feeling the solid muscle there. Laurent felt Damen’s other hand come around to hold his waist, his thumb pressing into the jut of Laurent’s hip. Their bodies were pressing together and all Laurent could think about was the heat of Damen’s mouth against his and the scent of Damen’s skin and Damen’s hand rising up his back pulling up his shirt and— 

Laurent pushed away from Damen, out of breath. He disentangled his limbs from Damen’s body and stepped off to the side of the kitchen, turning his back to Damen. 

“Are you okay?” Damen asked in a concerned tone, stepping closer to Laurent and extending an arm but not touching him. 

“You need to go,” Laurent said in a husky voice. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Damen wanted more, and Laurent didn’t know if he could give him anymore without…he wasn’t ready. 

“Laurent, I’m so—” 

“Don’t apologize,” Laurent interrupted him, turning to look at him over his shoulder. “I asked for this, and now I’m asking you to leave.” 

Damen’s mouth gaped open as if he was unsure what to do. It was clear now that his interest in Laurent went beyond furtive glances and conversation over a few glasses of wine. This was news to Laurent, who had only fantasized about Damen when he was alone after dark, and who didn’t know how to deal with the fact that such a fantasy could be a reality. 

Damen closed his mouth and slowly nodded his head, seeming to understand. He gave Laurent a wide berth as he exited the kitchen and whistled Kastor to his side. “You know where to find me,” he said, looking back at Laurent. 

Laurent listened to him walk down the hall to the back door, heard him put on the oversized jacket that Laurent had leant him, heard him open the door and close it behind him. He waited, holding his breath for a half dozen seconds before daring to walk across to his bedroom. Keeping the lights off so as not to be seen, Laurent watched Damen walk make his way to the guest house with Kastor at his heel. He watched as he entered the small cottage, turning on the lights and taking off his coat. Even from across the yard, Laurent could seem Damen’s figure illuminated by the bedroom lights through the cottage’s window. 

Damen looked out across the yard toward exactly where Laurent’s bedroom window was. Laurent knew that he couldn’t see him standing in the darkness, but he wondered if Damen knew that he was there, standing, watching, thinking. Laurent sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, watching as Damen, still looking out towards the house, slowly pulled his shirt off over his head. Laurent’s heart continued to beat rapidly in his chest. Damen lowered his hands to his belt, taking his eyes off the house to carefully undo the buckle and remove the belt in one fluid motion. He undid the fly, pushing the pants down and kicking them off. Finally, he walked to the window, taking the curtains in each hand, and looking out towards Laurent one last time before drawing them shut. 

Laurent flopped down onto his back on the bed. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling the heat and drumming that occurred there. His other hand slowly found its way to the growing bulge between his legs. 

Laurent masturbated just about as frequently as any other young man his age, which is to say regularly, but he usually regarded the task as more of a habitual practice, something that he did to relieve the build-up of tension and dull the ache of loneliness that he felt. He seldom thought about anything or anyone when he touched himself, choosing instead to give up his consciousness to sensations of the flesh and lose himself in temporary bliss. However, at that moment, Laurent wanted nothing more than to pleasure himself while thinking of Damen, wondering if Damen was doing the same. 

He allowed his hand to grip the waistband of his pants and boxers, pushing them down his thighs until he could kick them off. He brought his hand to gingerly cradle his cock, sucking in a breath between his teeth at the sensitivity that he found there. He swiped his thumb across the head, using the pre-come that was leaking from the tip to swirl a circle with his thumb around the underside of the head. Usually, Laurent masturbated with the slow ease of someone who had all the time and privacy in the world to pleasure themselves—that was how he preferred it—but this time it seemed that he couldn’t get off fast enough. 

Quick strokes soon led to Laurent bucking into his own hand before he turned over and rutted into the sheets, desperate for release. His mind was fixated with the feeling of Damen’s hand on his back, the warmth of his mouth, the idea of Damen taking him in his hand, or even his mouth. Laurent pressed his cheek into the bed and moaned, a long, low, drawn-out groan of longing and desire. He felt the knot in his stomach drop, as though pulled by some physical force, and then he was coming, toes curled, face pressed into the mattress, and back arched away from his hand which was still slowly stroking his oversensitive cock. 

After he came down from the high of his climax, Laurent fumbled around in bed for his pants, using them to towel off his abdomen. He pulled the top blanket off the mattress and collapsed onto the bed, pulling a pillow beneath his head before swiftly falling asleep. 

* * *

Laurent was faintly aware of the brightness in his room as his mind registered the clicking noises the back door opening. He blurrily blinked his eyes open, taking in the bright morning light that was spilling into his room from the window. Laurent registered the sensation of a cool rush of air on his bare buttocks which were fully exposed as he had somehow found his way onto his stomach in his sleep and the events of last night came crashing back into his mind. He barely had time to pull one of the blankets that he was tangled in up to cover his body before Kastor bounded into his room through the bedroom door which he had thoughtlessly left open, giving a happy bark and jumping up onto the bed beside him. 

Auguste, who had made his way in to curl up by Laurent’s head, merely blinked his eyes at Kastor, an extreme improvement from the startled yowl that the dog surely would have elicited from him the previous week. This time it was Laurent who yowled, giving a startled yell as Kastor licked his toes happily. “Stop th—” Laurent began, but he was cut off by his own laughter as Kastor’s broad tongue tickled his feet. Damen stood at the doorway to Laurent’s bedroom, a slight smile on his face. 

Laurent pushed Kastor off the bed with the heel of his foot and propped himself up on his elbow. His face was flushed with the exertion of laughing and his hair had fallen in his face giving him a much more youthful and carefree look. Laurent caught Damen gazing at his face with the same eyes that he had transfixed on Laurent the previous night. He brushed the hair out of his face, making sure that his lower half was wrapped in a blanket. 

“Good morning,” he said, still a little breathless. 

Damen smiled at him in response. “Sleep well?” 

“Yes…thank you,” Laurent replied. He thought about adding “thank you for asking” but he knew that his thanks were for more than Damen’s polite question. 

“I’ll let you get dressed,” Damen said, calling Kastor to his side. “You should maybe think about drawing your curtains,” Damen commented as he turned towards the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to give Laurent a subtle smile. 

“So should you,” Laurent retorted, pressing his lips into a thin line. 

Damen pulled Laurent’s door shut behind him and despite himself, Laurent couldn’t help but let a small smile creep across his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he flirted with somebody. This was flirting, right? He didn’t know what it was, but after last night’s emotional—and physical—high Laurent was sure of one thing, he was willing to risk anything to feel Damen’s lips on his again. He just wasn’t sure how to say that in a way that was dignified, he wasn’t sure how to begin to open himself up when he had been wound so tightly closed for years. 

Laurent slowly dressed, making sure to fix his hair and remove any signs of last nights pleasure from his expression and his room, before joining Damen in the kitchen. A cup of coffee was already sitting on the table waiting for him, and Damen was busy making sausages and eggs in one of Laurent’s large skillets. 

Laurent opened the fridge and examined the sparse shelves. His grocery supply was unused to feeding two people, and it was just as likely that he needed to pick up some pet food since Kastor had been eating Auguste’s cat food for the past week. 

“Do you want to go into town with me today?” he asked, addressing Damen. 

Damen looked over at Laurent, a bit surprised. Since arriving he had yet to leave the property, and he hadn’t dared to ask after Laurent had reacted so poorly at the prospect of driving him two hours to town. 

“We need to buy groceries,” Laurent said as if to clarify, putting extra emphasis on the “we.” “And your clothes are probably at the post office. If you’d like I can take you to the only place in town to eat and we could have dinner,” Laurent added, brushing his hair from behind his ear to hide the heat that came to his face at the thought of going out to dinner with Damen. He turned to meet his eyes. “I’m assuming you have something you’d like to say.” 

Damen’s bright smile illuminated the small kitchen. “I’d love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be worth the wait, I promise ;)


	4. Guilt and Guiltless Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want?”
> 
> Laurent looked back up into Damen’s eyes. “You know what I want.”
> 
> “Tell me,” Damen said, a small smile spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long but I promise it's worth it.  
> Trigger warnings for: mentioned CSA, implied non-con/underage, and implied murder.

They ate breakfast in silence, seeming to agree that whatever needed to be said could wait until a later time. The drive to town was mostly quiet as well, with the exception of several questions Damen asked when they drove past the solar farm and started to near the small settlements on the outskirts of town. Errands passed by without any surprises, and Laurent allowed himself to relax a bit as Damen tried to defuse the obvious tension that Laurent felt as dinner approached by making food-related jokes in the grocery store.  
Typically, a trip into town was a chore for Laurent, one of the few times he was forced to socialize with people, and he usually tried to get everything done as quickly as possible. With Damen present, Laurent allowed himself to take his time, lingering by the fresh fruit to answer Damen’s questions about what his favorite was and hiding a smile when Damen proceeded to buy several oranges once Laurent had told him. With all the groceries packed in a cooler in Laurent’s trunk and Damen wearing a warm padded flannel that actually fit him with two more boxes of Alaska-appropriate clothing in the car, Laurent eased the car down the gravel road towards the town’s one and only diner.

Laurent wasn’t a frequent patron at the diner, but he was still recognized by the waitress purely because there were no more than thirty people tops in the whole town who came to eat there. She seated Laurent and Damen in the back corner, as far from the windows and door as possible, in the booth that Laurent usually requested. 

“This is…ah…” Damen looked around at the duct tapped booths and small staff. 

“You can say it’s small, no one is going to be insulted,” Laurent said in a dry tone of voice. 

Damen gave a short laugh. “It is small.” 

The waitress brought them water in yellowed plastic cups and set down a black coffee in front of Laurent, who proceeded to order his usual for both himself and Damen. 

No one else was in the diner except for them, it was too early for the dinner crowd and too late for the mid-afternoon coffee rush. Damen observed the diner’s setting before letting his eyes settle on Laurent. He leaned across the table towards him, a slight smile played across his lips. 

Laurent’s hands fidgeted with the handle of his coffee cup, nearly spilling his coffee across the table. His face displayed visible discomfort. 

“This really isn’t easy for you,” Damen remarked, referencing the stiff silence between them. The smile on his face was compassionate, not pitying or judgmental. 

Laurent clasped his hands together, doing his best to put up a front of stillness and control. “I don’t talk to people. Unless I have to, and never about myself.” 

“Why?” Damen asked, leaning into the creaking foam and busted springs of the diner booth. His posture was much more relaxed than Laurent’s. 

“Why don’t you start talking and I’ll think about it?” Laurent responded, mostly because he felt like he needed time to really consider whether or not he was going to tell Damen the whole truth, and not because he didn’t know the answer to the question. 

“I think I’ve talked enough,” Damen said quietly. There was no one else in the diner to overhear them, and even if there was, nobody around here cared, which is one of the things Laurent enjoyed about living in the middle of nowhere. “You know all about my fucked up family and my poor life choices. I don’t want to talk about me, I want to hear about you.” 

Laurent let out a long sigh. Damen was persistent, he wasn’t going to let Laurent off the hook on this one like he had last night. He looked off across the diner, avoiding acknowledging the way Damen’s warm eyes were patiently watching his face. 

“What happened last night?” Damen asked gingerly. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Laurent turned back to look at him. “No,” he said slowly, shaking his head. 

“Do I take liberties?” 

“No.” He didn’t have to think about the answer. 

“Then you feel the same?” 

Laurent thought about how comforting Damen’s hands had felt on his body, supporting him, filling him with a sensation of warmth that he hadn’t felt for a long time. “I…” Laurent brought his eyes to meet Damen’s. “Yes. I do.” 

“Is that difficult to admit?” Damen’s voice carried no judgment. His head tipped to one side, he was trying to ease Laurent into to talking about himself. 

Laurent exhaled slowly. He looked down at his coffee, letting out an exasperated laugh. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Why?” 

Laurent looked across the table at Damen. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “You don’t want to hear about my life. You won’t look at me the same afterwards.” 

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Damen cracked a grin. “Laurent, nothing could change the way I look at you, not your worst secret, not your most traumatic back story. When all is said and done, I’ll still be the same man who kissed you in the kitchen last night.” 

Laurent wiped his face with his hands to hide the blush that had come over him. 

At that moment they were interrupted by the waitress who brought them their food, two plates overflowing with the breakfast special: pancakes, bacon, toast, home fries, and scrambled eggs. 

Damen smiled at Laurent’s food choice. Laurent had all but lost his appetite at the thought of telling Damen about his past. Damen gazed up from his steaming plate of food and caught Laurent’s worried look. 

“Are you hungry? I’m starved and this looks amazing, but I would be completely open to taking this back to the house and eating it picnic style on the floor in front of a warm fire,” Damen suggested. “If you’d rather talk about this somewhere more comfortable.” 

That sounded far more appealing to Laurent then sitting in an uncomfortable booth in the decrepit diner. He nodded. “That would be preferable.” 

Damen caught the waitresses’ attention and had their food packaged to go while Laurent contemplated exactly how awkward it would be to sit in near total silence with Damen for the almost two-hour drive back. Thankfully, he didn’t have to sit in silence and stew. 

“This is the last time I’m going to fill the silence,” Damen said comically as they got into Laurent’s truck, and then he began to talk about how different Alaska was from where he had grown up in LA and all the other warm places he had lived throughout his life. 

Before Laurent knew it, they were pulling onto the gravel drive in front of the house and he was once again reminded of Damen’s expectations by a terrible twisting feeling in his gut. 

* * *

After dallying as long as he could putting away groceries, Laurent finally emerged from the kitchen to join Damen—and Kastor, whom Damen had brought in from the guest house—in the living room. Damen had laid out a blanket on the floor, pushing the coffee table off to one side of the couch so that the two met and created an L-shape that he had padded with all of Laurent’s couch pillows. A warm fire burned bright in the fireplace. 

Laurent slowly lowered himself to sit on the floor, his back up against the sofa, the fire illuminating his face in an orange light. Damen had already devoured half of his food, but Laurent didn’t bother to touch his. 

Damen sat upright, leaning against the couch beside Laurent so that he was facing him. 

“Stop thinking about it,” Damen said after the silence dragged on for just a little too long. 

“Everybody that I’ve ever loved is dead,” Laurent said quietly, letting the statement hang in the air. He felt like he was surrounded by electricity like the air was buzzing. “Not unlike you,” he continued, fidgeting with the front edge of his sweater. “My uncle…took advantage of me when I was very young.” Laurent intentionally avoided Damen’s gaze as he began to tell the story that he dreaded most people finding out about. 

“It started out as just massages and asking me to sit on his lap all of the time, but it slowly progressed to molestation and pleasuring himself while I was present. My parents found out and they were livid, so was my brother, but my uncle was always two steps ahead. He had them…” Laurent took a deep breath, tracing the outline of his palm. “You don’t need to know all the details. He took me away. He told me that he only wanted to protect me,” Laurent snorted at himself. “And I believed him. I listened to him, I trusted him—I had no one else to trust—and I never said anything about the abuse, even when it got worse, even when it became so much more than just molestation. He convinced me that I had everything I deserved, and that was absolutely nothing.” 

Laurent rubbed the knuckles until they were red. He stared into the fire, chewing on his bottom lip. “If I had said something about my uncle to my parents or my brother earlier they might not be dead now. But I didn’t say anything. I put my trust in someone that I shouldn’t have. and I lost everyone that I loved because of that choice.” Laurent allowed himself to look over at Damen. He knew the face he was expecting to see: the bottom lip jutting out slightly, eyebrows drawn up towards one another, eyes puppy-dog like and wide. He was expecting to see shock and pity, surprise and disgust. He was expecting a “why didn’t you say anything?” face. But that wasn’t what he saw. 

Damen’s eyes were gentle and kind, his lips were pressed together evenly. There was no judgment, there was no misunderstanding. Laurent was used to being boiled down to a label, being seen as a victim, or as damaged goods, but Damen’s look was not like a single one of these appraisals. Damen was still looking at Laurent with the complexity and the compassion that he had the other night while they were in the kitchen. 

“Don’t tell me it’s not my fault,” Laurent said because there were few things he hated hearing more than that phrase. 

“Okay,” Damen said softly, nodding at him. “I won’t.” 

There was a long moment of silence between them. The fire snapped and popped, Kastor breathed quietly on the floor. 

“You deserve to be loved,” Damen’s voice said, quietly breaking through the stagnant air. 

Laurent forced himself to hold Damen’s gaze. “Do I?” The emotion in his voice was palpable, the question painfully honest. 

“Yes,” Damen said reassuringly. “The people you loved didn’t die because you didn’t deserve them, they died because of a wicked man. You’re not unworthy of love because of your past.” 

Laurent looked away from Damen, bring his hand to his throat trying to massage out the sharp tension that had gathered there. His eyes were burning with the beginnings of tears, though he wasn’t certain whether they were tears of sadness or relief or just years of undiscussed emotions. “I’m sorry,” Laurent said, squeezing his eyes shut. 

His eyes opened at the gentle touch of Damen’s hand on his face. Damen’s warm thumb wiped a tear from his cheek as his palm came to rest against Laurent’s jaw. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

Laurent chuckled softly, amused at hearing his own words parroted back to him. His hand came to clasp Damen’s wrist, fingers rubbing the soft skin on the underside of his arm. 

Damen slowly brought his lips to the crook of Laurent’s neck beneath his jaw, planting a delicate kiss on Laurent’s sensitive skin. 

Laurent felt unbelievably bare in a way he wasn’t used to and shivered at the press of Damen’s lips. His fingers dug into Damen’s arm, his nails leaving crescent marks. He wanted this, he wanted this so badly it ached, but his body also felt tight with the tension that he had been holding in all day. 

“Will you stay while I get cleaned up?” he asked, still clutching Damen’s arm. 

Damen pulled back from Laurent’s neck, meeting his eyes. He recognized that Laurent wasn’t asking to be excused because he was actually unclean, rather because he needed space to decompress. Thinking was hard for Laurent in Damen’s presence and a brief respite to shower would help him relax and process the reality of Damen knowing about his life. 

“Yes, of course.” Damen smiled warmly. 

Laurent eased himself away from the warmth of Damen’s body and the fire, taking a long moment to appraise his reflection once he was in the bathroom. His eyes were slightly red, but they were also bright, and the tightness in his throat was gone, replaced by a bubbly sensation of warmth. Laurent let out a sigh that he felt he had been holding for years. Damen had been right, speaking your truth really did make it feel like you were more in control of your life, like you were the one living it instead of it happening to you. 

As he stood beneath the warm water, he bid the guilt and anxiety of his past to wash away. He could still feel the pain in his chest that had lingered with him since his family had been taken away, but next to it was a new, softer feeling, one of trust and ease that hinted at what could be. For the first time in years, Laurent found himself thinking about the future, about the fact that he didn’t have to live in the past because his past didn’t have control over him. He had control over his life, and he could open up to people and still have them care about him in a way that was honest and real and complex. 

Slipping out of the shower, Laurent pulled on an oversized nightshirt and snuck down the hall to his bedroom. He could hear Damen putting things away in the kitchen and breaking down the boxes that his clothes had shipped in. 

Laurent sat on the edge of his bed, one leg tucked beneath him as he pulled a hairbrush through his hair. The wet tendrils made the collar of his loose bed shirt damp and cold, causing him to shiver inadvertently. His bedroom door ajar, he could hear Damen putting his clothes in the dryer followed by the sound of feet creaking on floorboards as they lumbered down the hall and come to stop outside his door. Even without looking Laurent could feel Damen’s gaze on him. The brush in his hand froze mid-stroke. 

After what he had said to him in the living room, Laurent had been sure that Damen would be repulsed by him, but when he had looked at him he had seen no disgust in Damen’s eyes. He had seen understanding and compassion. 

Laurent hadn’t heard Damen’s feet move from outside his door. 

“Are you going to just stand there and watch me?” Laurent asked boldly. He turned over his shoulder to look at Damen’s silhouetted figure through the door frame. “Or are you going to come in?” 

Damen pressed his hand to Laurent door, it creaked softly as it swung open. His figure filled the frame, the warm light of Laurent’s bedroom spilling onto the skin of his chest beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt. “Can I help you with that?” He gestured to Laurent’s hair. 

Laurent thought about Damen’s hands brushing his hair, massaging his scalp, trailing down his neck. He gave a soft nod. 

Damen took the hairbrush from Laurent and sat behind him on the edge of the mattress, his weight caused Laurent to slide closer to him so that his back was inches from Damen’s chest. Damen slowly drew the hairbrush through Laurent’s golden hair, brushing the ends over his hand to remove all of the tangles. 

Laurent closed his eyes and allowed Damen to work his way through his hair until every snarl has been brushed out and the golden locks were silken and slightly dry to the touch. He set the hairbrush aside on Laurent’s nightstand, returning to run his fingers through Laurent’s hair. 

Laurent replayed what Damen had said to him in the living room. “You deserve to be loved.” He had felt numb at first like Damen was just another do-gooder trying to make him feel better, but then he had thought about what that phrase meant coming from Damen. “You deserve to be loved” was Damen’s way of asking Laurent to let him in, of telling him that nothing—not even his past—changed what was happening now. It was a reminder that Laurent didn’t have to do everything alone, that he could allow himself to be cared for without being weak. 

Damen’s fingers traveled to Laurent’s neck, gently massaging the tissue there. He felt the tightness in his shoulders begin to release as Damen worked his fingers into the muscle at the base of Laurent’s neck. 

“Shower help ease the tension?” Damen asked, his thumbs pleasantly massaging a knot at the base of Laurent’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Laurent murmured softly. “I feel...I feel lighter. I feel like I’ve been trying to look at myself in a dirty mirror, and now the mirror is clean and I can actually see my reflection, it’s not all muddled.” 

Damen brushed Laurent’s hair over one of his shoulders with his hands, exposing Laurent’s neck. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss the base of Laurent’s skull behind his ear. Laurent shivered with pleasure. 

“I like to hear you talk,” Damen murmured, his lips by Laurent’s ear. He pressed another kiss to Laurent’s neck. “You sound as beautiful as you look.” Laurent’s cheeks grew warm and he leaned back into Damen’s chest. Damen’s arms slowly wound around his waist, gently enveloping him in an embrace that pulled Laurent into his lap. 

“Nothing you don’t want?” 

Laurent shook his head, pressing his temple against Damen’s jaw. He thought for a moment before saying, “Show me what I deserve.” 

Damen didn’t have to be told twice. He brought his hands to the hem of Laurent’s nightshirt and Laurent raised his arms so he could remove it, leaving Laurent in only his black jockeys. The nightshirt gone, Damen eased Laurent down into the bed on his stomach and began deeply massaging his back, releasing knots of tension that Laurent hasn’t been aware even existed. Laurent’s fingers clawed in the sheets and he let out small noises of pleasure as Damen’s warm hands traveled over his shoulders and back touching him in places he hadn’t allowed himself to be touched in years. Damen worked slowly, pressing his thumbs masterfully into each knot in Laurent’s muscle and gingerly easing them out. He paid close attention to the areas on Laurent’s body that caused him to hiss with pleasure, drawing his fingers over them delicately as he moved his hands up and down Laurent’s back. “How’s the tension now?” 

“What tension?” Laurent mumbled into the sheets. 

Damen chuckled in response, pressing on Laurent’s side to ease him to roll onto his back. 

Laurent’s chest rose and fell, filling with heat as Damen ran one of his hands up over Laurent’s stomach to his heart to feel his pulse beating there. Making eye contact with Damen, Laurent was reminded of his intense feeling of vulnerability and his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry and tight. 

Damen’s removed his fingers from Laurent’s body to undo the buttons on his own shirt, discarding it to the floor with Laurent’s nightshirt. He leaned over Laurent’s body, their chests almost touching, bracing himself with his forearms on either side of Laurent’s shoulders. 

Laurent’s eyes flitted to Damen’s lips, mere inches from his face. He wanted to feel the press of those lips against his own, to feel the heat of Damen’s mouth pressing into his. 

“What do you want?” 

Laurent looked back up into Damen’s eyes. “You know what I want.” 

“Tell me,” Damen said, a small smile spreading across his face. 

“I want you to kiss me again,” Laurent said breathlessly. 

The words had barely left Laurent’s mouth before Damen’s lips were upon him. Laurent was thrown back to the previous night in the kitchen when Damen’s lips had threatened to unravel him. This time was no different, in fact, if anything it was more intense now that the reality of who they both were was shared between them. 

The kiss was soft at first, almost timid. Laurent brought his hand to the back of Damen’s head, carding his fingers through Damen’s hair. He felt Damen’s arms slide under his back and come to cradle him, their bare chests pressed together. 

Laurent parted his lips slightly, inviting Damen to deepen the kiss, but Damen stubbornly continued to peck and nip at Laurent’s lips, giving him only a hint of the kiss that they had shared in the kitchen the other night. Laurent made a small sound of frustration against Damen’s mouth, pressing his chin up towards Damen, forcing their lips to press together more firmly. He sucked Damen’s bottom lip into his mouth, pulling it softly between his teeth with just enough pressure to indicate his desire to Damen. 

Damen transferred his weight to one side, rolling over and pulling Laurent up on top of him, their lips still pressed together. From his new position, Laurent found himself straddling Damen so that the growing stiffness at his groin was pressing against Damen’s own erection. Damen’s tongue pressed Laurent’s lips open and Laurent couldn’t help but grind his hips down against Damen’s pelvis, seeking out a sense of pleasurable friction. 

It was Damen who broke off the kiss after what felt like ages of Laurent grinding down on him. “Are you…do you prefer being on top?” he asked, his lips red and breath slightly ragged. 

“I prefer being in control,” Laurent said with total honesty. 

“Do you want to do me?” 

“I want to ride you.” 

Damen’s eyes widened considerably at that. “Fuck, that’s hot. Can I finger you first?” 

Laurent’s hips jerked against Damen’s pelvis. “Yes…please.” He rolled off of Damen, lounging back against the headboard, one knee was drawn up halfway, the other leg splayed out across the bed. “Take it off,” Laurent said, looking at Damen’s pants. 

“All of it?” 

Laurent nodded, sliding his hand up his thigh, grazing his cock through the fabric of his jockeys. 

Damen sat up, taking his hands to the fly of his jeans even as he kept his eyes on Laurent’s. Laurent watched as Damen looped his fingers under the edge of his pants and boxers, pushing them slowly down over his hips, down his thighs, finally swinging his legs around and kicking them to the floor. 

Laurent’s mouth gaped open. His eyes had fallen to the most honest place of Damen’s body, which stood flushed and erect. He tried to swallow but his throat once again felt tight, despite the fact that his mouth was practically watering. 

Damen knelt on the bed at Laurent’s feet, watching him react. He relished the look of hunger in Laurent’s eyes. He slowly took his hand to his chest, letting it slide down his body until it came to palm his dick. 

Laurent visibly trembled as he watched Damen stroke the length of his cock. 

“You’re very…” Laurent licked his lips, trying to straighten out his thoughts enough to string a sentence together. “Proportional,” he said finally. 

Damen grinned. “You can say big, I definitely won’t be insulted.” 

Laurent pulled open the nightstand drawer next to the bed, drawing Damen’s attention to the collection of sex toys, lube, and condoms, indicating his continued interest. 

“Undress me,” he said, pushing himself further down onto the bed, his legs sliding to either side of Damen’s thighs. 

Damen pulled Laurent’s jockeys off, running his hands over the creamy, pale skin that was now exposed. Laurent gave a soft moan, spreading his legs apart to allow Damen’s hand to travel between them and farther back still. 

“Have you?” Damen’s fingers traveled over the place in question. 

Laurent nodded his head, his fingers already clenching in the sheets at the sensation of Damen’s fingers circling his entrance. 

“May I?” 

He nodded again, bringing his legs up and wrapping them around Damen’s back as Damen slicked his fingers with lube. 

The first finger was like a bolt of lightning as it pressed into Laurent, hot and wet. Damen teased the nerves at the edge of Laurent’s entrance as he slowly worked his longest finger deeper and deeper inside of Laurent until he found the bundle of nerves within that caused Laurent to throw his head back into the pillow and gasp. He added another finger, circling the sensitive spot, watching Laurent shiver and pant on the mattress. 

Laurent gripped the sheets like they were the only thing holding him to the Earth. His head was pressed back into the pillow as Damen masterfully worked two of his fingers inside of Laurent, pressing them in until they were fully buried, rubbing them over Laurent’s prostate, and then pulling them nearly all the way back out to scissor them at the very edge. Laurent felt like he might explode, his cock leaking pre-come onto his stomach, but he resisted. 

A hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. Laurent looked down to see Damen gazing at it hungrily, his fingers still working inside Laurent. 

“And what of this?” Damen asked. 

“What of it?” 

“Can I please you with my mouth?” He licked his lips as he said it. 

Laurent’s cheeks burned red. “I won’t do the same for you.” 

“That’s not what I’m asking.” 

“You can if you want,” Laurent said when really, he meant to say that the very thought of Damen with his lips wrapped around Laurent’s cock made him dizzily excited. 

Damen trailed the broad flat of his tongue along the underside of Laurent’s cock, and Laurent melted into the bed. Laurent held out for as long as he could with every ounce of his strength, bidding himself to experience every pleasure that Damen lavished on him, every crook of Damen’s large fingers, every wet stroke of his tongue, but when Damen took Laurent’s cock into the back of his throat in one smooth motion, he couldn’t resist any longer. 

Laurent bucked his hips up off the bed, completely oblivious to the gagging noise that induced in Damen—who only fingered Laurent harder because of it. Damen’s fingers relentlessly massaged Laurent’s prostrate and Laurent saw stars as he came, heels digging into Damen’s back, one hand balled tightly in the hair at the back of Damen’s head. Coming down from his high, he slowly released his death grip on Damen. His legs fell to the sides, laying on top of Damen’s thighs, his hands went limp on top of his stomach, which was rising and falling at a quick rate with his rapid breathing. 

Damen gingerly pulled his fingers out of Laurent, letting Laurent’s cock fall from his mouth and rest on his stomach. He sat back on his heels, watching Laurent recover, his own breathing slightly labored. 

Laurent gazed directly up at the ceiling, his eyes half-lidded in utter bliss, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good lord,” he muttered, almost incoherently. He propped himself up on one elbow, bringing his eyes to meet Damen’s. 

Damen was leaning against the bedpost, his legs casually intertwined with Laurent’s as he slowly jerked himself off. 

“What are you doing?” Laurent’s brow furrowed. 

Damen looked at him in surprise. “I thought I would…since you’ve finished.” 

“Finished?” Laurent asked incredulously. “What do you think I am? Some virgin?” He scoffed. He wasn’t a virgin, but he certainly wasn’t as experienced as he wanted Damen to think he was, and at any rate, he hadn’t had a real dick inside of him in over three years. Nonetheless, Laurent was determined to ride him, the very thought of it stirred his cock, already rousing again. 

Laurent watched as Damen’s face broke into an expression of excitement, practically lighting up the room. 

“Lay down,” Laurent ordered, retrieving a condom and more lube for Damen. 

Damen obediently complied, placing one arm behind his head in a relaxed posture. 

Laurent’s eyes once again fell to Damen’s cock. God, it was large. Laurent had his share of beefy sex toys, but this was something else entirely. It was dark and long, and thick, and the head was perfectly shaped. Laurent was at a loss for what to do: should he put the condom on? Should he let Damen? 

“Touch me…please?” Damen’s soft voice captured Laurent’s attention. 

Laurent brought his hand to Damen’s cock, rubbing his thumb across the slick head before running his palm over the entire length. Damen made a noise that was cross between a moan and contented sigh. His cock was warm beneath Laurent’s fingers, and the skin was smooth, pulled taut by Damen’s erect form. Laurent watched Damen close his eyes and relish the sensation of his touch. The moment was a calm respite from the heat of lovemaking as Laurent softly explored Damen’s cock and thighs with his hands and Damen allowed himself to be pleasured under Laurent’s cool gaze. 

Damen reached down, taking Laurent’s wrist and bringing his hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against the palm. 

Laurent wrinkled his nose at the thought of Damen kissing the hand that he had just been touching him with, but he had little time to think of that before Damen was pulling Laurent down on top of him, kissing him again. Laurent let the weight of his body press against Damen’s torso, easing his leg of Damen’s waist so he was once again straddling him. He sat upright on Damen’s midsection. 

“Let me put that on you,” Laurent offered, speaking of the condom. 

“Already did,” Damen replied with a grin. “Just a little slight of hand. Feel for yourself if you don’t believe me.” 

Laurent reached behind him, feeling the thin layer of rubber rolled over Damen’s erection. “So you’re a magician,” Laurent commented, somewhat sarcastically. 

Damen shrugged, grinning stupidly. 

“I like magic tricks. Show me sometime.” 

“Of course,” Damen said. 

Laurent covered Damen’s cock in lube, rubbing the excess on his fingers against his entrance, though he was still slick with the lube from Damen’s fingers as well. 

“I haven’t…not recently,” he admitted, timidly. 

Damen’s hands came to his waist, thumbs rubbing small circles at his hip creases. “Take it at your own pace.” 

Laurent looked skeptically at Damen, bringing the head of his cock to rest against the outside of Laurent’s entrance. 

“Trust me, I don’t mind at all.” Damen’s fingers pressed into Laurent’s flesh. 

Laurent let out a breath and gradually lowered himself onto Damen’s cock. Damen looked large, but he felt so much larger. Larger than his fingers, larger than any toy Laurent had ever used before, and Laurent had to grit his teeth to keep from clenching down on the burning heat of being stretched so much. Once he had taken the entire head inside of him he paused, bringing both his palms to Damen’s chest. His breathing was measured, calculated. Below him, Damen let out a groan of pleasure. 

“Oh, Laurent, yes.” Damen brought one hand to Laurent’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Are you okay?” 

Laurent let out a held breath. “I’m managing.” Then after a moment, he said, “Keep talking.” 

Damen continued rubbing Laurent’s cheek with his thumb. “Laurent, you look so fucking beautiful with your face flushed and your hair tousled. You’re so hot and tight and amazing.” 

Damen kept talking and Laurent slowly relaxed enough to lower himself inch after inch onto Damen’s cock until he was sitting on his pelvis, his ass flush against Damen’s skin. Between the immense girth and length, Laurent was already threatening to bliss out on Damen’s dick as it rubbed against Laurent’s prostate with every incremental shift of his body. 

“Oh god, Laurent, you feel so good,” Damen groaned when Laurent had taken the entire length of Damen’s cock inside of him. 

Laurent gyrated his hips, grinding against Damen in a slow rhythm. 

Damen brought his hands back to Laurent’s hips, gently easing Laurent’s hips into a more circular motion that had both of them digging their fingers into the other's skin. 

“Put your hands above your head,” Laurent said, once he had acclimated to Damen’s dick enough to feel more comfortable. “Don’t move them.” 

Damen did as he was told. 

Laurent braced himself against Damen, his palms flat against his abdomen, and slowly started working his ass up and down on Damen’s cock. His thighs trembled with every thrust as he attempted to hold himself together. Damen made the most erotic noises of pleasure beneath him, which only encouraged Laurent to move slower, making his motions more deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure that he could. 

Laurent’s own arousal was growing uncomfortably sensitive, but he refused to touch it, wanting to orgasm from Damen’s cock alone. Laurent raised his hips, coming up until he was nearly off Damen’s cock before sliding all the way back to down to bottom out on it. The sensation of momentary emptiness followed by being slowly filled with Damen’s cock again had him throwing back his head, losing his slow and deliberate rhythm. A string of curse words escaped his lips as he repeated the motion. He leaned back, bringing on of his hands to Damen’s propped up knee to brace himself, the other hand pressed firmly to Damen’s abs, and he began shamelessly grinding on Damen’s cock, thrusting himself up and down on it in an erratic fashion. 

“Laurent, I can’t,” Damen groaned. “I’m going to…” He arched his back and pulled Laurent’s hips down to his own in one sharp motion, tumbling over the edge of his own ecstasy. 

Laurent refused to remain still. Driven on by his own physical need he gyrated what little be could while Damen’s hands were clasped firmed on his hips and it was enough to satisfy his pleasure. “Oh, fuck, Damen!” he called, raking his nails down Damen’s chest as his cock pulsed and covered Damen’s abs in stripes of pleasure. 

Exhausted, Laurent tumbled off of Damen. He could tell he was going to be sore in the morning, but he couldn’t care less. Despite himself, he felt his chest bubbling as laughter escaped from his lip. 

Damen gave him a slightly dazed but amused look. “What?” 

“I think I need another shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on tumblr is to blame for my obsession with Laurent riding dick, but I can't remember who it is.


	5. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long to write, I've been hella busy! This is going to be the last chapter posted for a while because I'm working on a new fic for Capri Big Bang, but I promise that I will return to it and resolve it! Thank you for your patience and support!

Laurent enjoyed Damen’s company again in the shower. He was thankful for the steel bar that he had asked Damen to install earlier in the week. While it was only meant to have washcloths hung on it and serve as a handhold in case Laurent ever lost his balance it proved to be especially helpfully for staying upright during shower sex. Laurent had to stand on his toes to make up for the height difference between Damen and himself, although if he was going to honest Damen mostly held him up against the shower wall with a firm grip on his hips while he whispered encouragements in Laurent’s ear. Laurent’s arms and legs shook so badly from the third orgasm in as many hours that he had to sit down on the floor of the shower while Damen performed the perfunctory motions of rinsing himself and Laurent off.

Laurent wrapped himself in a towel after regaining his composure and coordination and evaluated his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his hair and teeth. Damen had slipped out with a quiet “I’ll be back” to presumably retrieve some clothes, or at least some undergarments, for sleeping, but Laurent suspected that it was also because Damen was becoming intuitive of his need for space to gather himself, particularly after high energy and emotional moments. He was grateful to have a little space, though he found himself shivering against the slight chill in the house that resulted from the neglected fireplace and looking forward to returning to Damen’s warmth. His face was flushed with color, an image he was not used to seeing during the cool fall months leading up to winter, and there was a brightness to his eyes that wasn’t usually there. These physical markers could easily have been brushed off as the results of lovemaking, but after the evening’s intimacy with Damen he could no longer tell himself that these responses were purely physical. He felt both exhausted and invigorated, and for once he could actually say that he was excited about what the next day would hold. The sense of energy and peace of mind that Laurent felt was in stark contrast to the mediocre sense of contentment that he was used to, and it was so refreshing Laurent felt like he might cry if not for being so physically drained from his repeated orgasms. 

Laurent applied a fragrant oil to his body, leisurely massaging his skin and taking note of the marks of Damen’s lovemaking. He had noted the light marks on his neck that had been made by Damen’s mouth while they were in the shower and knew that they would continue to darken over the next few hours as the rest of his skin returned to its light pallor. He returned to the bedroom wrapped in just a towel to find Damen lounging across the mattress wearing a pair of sweatpants that weren’t Laurent’s for the first time since arriving. He looked up from a book that Laurent recognized as coming from one of the shelves in the living room and smiled at him. 

“Should I give you some privacy for dressing?” Damen asked in a slightly teasing tone. 

Laurent smiled back at Damen. He appreciated Damen’s constant attention to ensuring that he was comfortable. “I think it’s a little late for that,” he replied, dropping his towel and taking his time to dress in a pair of black lace briefs that had lived at the back of his drawer for too long and a soft, oversized sweater. Laurent took his time coming back to bed, noting that Damen had turned off all the lights around the house and let Auguste and Kastor into the bedroom. His intentions were clear, he was planning to spend the night with Laurent. 

Damen moved to set his book on the nightstand, but Laurent caught his arm, 

“No, let me see what you’re reading.” 

Damen handed him the book. It was a fantasy novel, a quasi-Lord of the Rings book that had come out in the earlier 2000s judging by the cover. Laurent turned it over in his hands, noting the dog-eared pages and yellow tint to the edges. It looked like something that Auguste would have bought for Laurent when he was younger, hoping to encourage him to read something other than his niche of historical fiction. 

“Is it good?” he asked, handing it back to Damen. 

“I only just started it while I was waiting for you so I don’t know yet,” Damen responded, watching Laurent’s eye run over his hands as he took the book back. “Haven’t you ever read it?” 

Laurent shook his head in response. “I read manuscripts for a living. The last thing I usually want to do with my day is more reading. It feels like work to me.” It felt good to be able to talk so casually about his life with Damen. 

Damen made space beside him for Laurent to come and recline. “Shall I read some to you? Or would you rather retire?” 

Laurent appraised the space beside Damen. Even though Damen had taken him twice, he still felt nervous about allowing himself to be shown such compassion. After consideration, he nestled himself into the space, finding himself satisfied with how comfortably he fit against Damen’s side. “Read me a little,” he said, looking up into Damen’s eyes. 

Damen wrapped his arm around Laurent’s waist, stroking his fingers gingerly across the top of Laurent’s thigh. He pressed a soft kiss to Laurent’s temple, flipping the book open. 

Damen’s voice was warm and rich. Most of the people that Laurent spoke to had voices that were cold and gruff, grating with the sound of a smoker’s lungs or hoarse from the cold. Laurent closed his eyes and let the melody of Damen’s voice wash over him. He didn’t realize that he was falling asleep until he was startled awake by the removal of Damen’s arm from his waist. 

“Sorry,” came Damen’s gentle apology, followed by a caress to Laurent’s cheek. Laurent wiped his eyes, rolling away from Damen and sitting up on one side of the bed. He drowsily watched Damen place his book on the nightstand. He kicked back the covers and crawled beneath them. Damen’s warm hand came to the back of his neck, and Laurent opened his eyes to find the room in darkness, the only light coming through the window from the crescent moon outside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Laurent watched Damen’s head come to rest on the pillow beside him. He felt Damen’s legs sliding against his beneath the blankets. Damen’s hand stroked the back of Laurent’s neck, causing his eyes to flutter and a wave of fatigue to fall over him. 

“Have I come through with my promise?” his soft voice cut through the silence. 

“Hmm?” Laurent forced himself to blink his eyes open and stay awake. 

“Am I the same man now as I was yesterday in the kitchen?” 

Laurent smiled sleepily. “Yeah, you are.” 

“Can you make me a promise?” 

“What is it?” 

“Will you be the same man tomorrow that you were tonight?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Open, vulnerable, communicative...yourself.” 

Laurent stifled a yawn, the weight of his eyelids overwhelming him. “For you, I can.” 

The sensation of Damen’s lips brushing gently against his own was the last feeling Laurent was aware of before falling into a peaceful sleep. 

* * *

In the darkness, Laurent could make out the shape of a human figure. He was standing in a hallway that he recognized from his childhood home. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, elegant sconces were nestled on the walls, and an expensive Persian rug ran down the length of the hallway. At the end of the hallway, just beyond the human silhouette, was a door painted a muted royal blue, it was the door to what had once been Laurent’s bedroom. Laurent suddenly became aware of an intense sensation of heat surrounding him. Flames were licking up the walls around him, turning the wallpaper into ribbons of ash that muddled the air. Flames were also spitting out from beneath the door at the end of the hallway, and Laurent could see the figure trying desperately to open the door.

“Auguste…” he whispered. 

Laurent hadn’t been in his room when the house caught on fire. He had snuck out into the back garden to sulk about something that was ultimately unimportant. By the time he saw the flames emanating over the top of the trees, half of the house had been devoured. Uncle had been there too, standing in the yard, staring at the house in awe. Laurent had wondered at the time how he had managed to get there so quickly as Uncle had pulled him close, stroking his head and saying soothing words about how everything would be okay. 

Laurent had no idea what had happened inside the house, no idea why his parents and Auguste had never emerged from the flaming building, and the ignorance haunted him. Standing in the burning hallway, frozen, Laurent was forced to watch one of his worst nightmares: Auguste sacrificing himself to try and save Laurent. Laurent’s throat felt tight, his voice sounded hoarse when he tried to call Auguste’s name. The words wouldn’t come out. He watched August throwing himself against the door, pressing his hands to the hot wood, burning his hands. The door splintered as Auguste kicked it, and collapsed inward, sending a wave of flames out into the hallway as the backdraft of oxygen fed the fire. Laurent opened his mouth in a scream as the fire wrapped itself around Auguste’s figure, his golden hair turning to ash like the wallpaper, his body crumbling. This was how his dream usually ended, this was when he usually woke up, but he didn’t. This time, Laurent watched as the flames transformed Auguste, his golden hair becoming black, his skin darkening to a warm chestnut brown, his figure swelling in size. The figure slowly turned in the empty doorway, seemingly unaffected by the flames dancing around them, and Laurent saw himself reflected in Damen’s eyes, surrounded by fire. 

Damen opened his mouth, but it was Laurent’s uncle’s voice that came out. “You won’t be able to save him either.” 

Laurent sat bolt upright in bed. He heard screaming and didn’t realize it was his own until he had to draw in a shaky breath to refill his burning lungs and noticed that the screaming stopped. He was covered in a cold sweat, the sheets around his soaking wet and freezing, causing him to shiver. 

Beside him, Damen had jolted awake. He reached out his hand to touch Laurent’s arm and Laurent flinched away at first, almost falling off the bed in shock. Laurent’s cheeks were stained with tears, his breath coming in throaty gasps. 

“Laurent?” 

Laurent turned away from Damen, bringing his hands to his face to wipe the tears away. He drew in a shocked gasp when he felt Damen’s arms wrap around his chest, Damen’s head coming to rest on Laurent’s shoulder, his warm chest pressing up against Laurent’s cold back. 

Damen pulled Laurent back into the center of the bed, wrapping the warm top blanket around the both of them. 

Laurent was used to waking up in a fit of terror, covered in cold sweat and choking on his tears, but he wasn’t used to waking up in someone’s arms. Damen’s warmth was the most comforting sensation that Laurent could have imagined at that very moment. His strong fingers stroking Laurent’s nape, his cheek pressed to Laurent’s forehead as he tucked Laurent’s head against his shoulder. Laurent shut his eyes as his shivering slowly subsided, replaced with steady breathing and the feeling of tired muscles. Laurent was absently aware of Damen saying something to him, but he was already crashing from his adrenaline high and couldn’t muster the energy to even mumble in response. 

* * *

The next time Laurent opened his eyes the mid-morning sun was pouring into the room, a rare occurrence, even in the summertime. The blankets lay around him in a scattered mess, though he had remained tucked beneath the mass of them. Laurent stretched out his arm across the mattress and was surprised to feel that the sheets were still warm, indicating that Damen had only left the bed just recently. Laurent fist his hand in the sheets and his breath caught in his throat at the thought of what had occurred the night before. Damen’s presence beside him, inside him, around him, encompassing his body and his world and making him feel whole and new. Yet, at the same time, the vision from his dream lingered in the back of his mind. Damen wasn’t going to stay, Damen was going to leave, and Laurent would be alone again, just like he had been before. It would be like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

“You’re awake,” Damen’s voice noted from the doorway. 

Laurent turned his head to gaze at him. If he had been breath-taking in the low-light of Laurent’s bedroom, he was even more so now, his body illuminated by the natural light that spilled in through the window. His hair was mussed from sex and sleep, and his voice was husky and ridiculously lecherous. Laurent simply stared at him, taking it all in. 

“I miss your company,” Laurent said finally, sitting up and kicking the blankets back. He swung his feet off the bed, resting them on the floor. 

“I’m right here,” Damen said. 

“That’s not what I mean.” Laurent closed the space between them and placed one of his hands on Damen’s bare chest. He couldn’t control the fact that Damen would eventually leave, he could only control this moment. Laurent decided that was going to have to be enough, that a handful of days like the night he had with Damen were worth a lifetime of loneliness. 

Damen smiled, pressing his hand over Laurent’s. “Would you like to enjoy my company in the shower again?” 

Laurent bit his lip, remembering how he had crumbled under Damen’s touch. “I’m not sure I have the stamina for that.” 

“Perhaps by the fireplace then?” He interlaced his fingers with Laurent’s, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. 

Laurent sighed and nodded his head, a smile spreading across his lips as Damen turned and eagerly tugged him down the hall. 

Damen proved to be just as passionate of a lover during the daylight hours as he did after dark, perhaps even better. He took Laurent from behind, using his hands to guide Laurent’s back into the perfect arch that would deliver the most pleasure. He laid him on his back and spread Laurent’s pale thighs with his dark hands, inserting himself between them and driving Laurent over the edge while Laurent’s heels dug into his back and his hands fisted in his hair. 

When they had finished, Damen fit Laurent’s back against his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. The suited each other, Laurent’s every curve finding a recess of Damen’s body to slide into, and Damen’s broad frame offering warmth to Laurent. Laurent folded his arm beneath his head. With Damen spooning him from behind, Laurent was left to gaze into the fire, and the sudden image that the dancing flames brought to his mind caused his stomach to turn. He rolled over in Damen’s grasp, gazing instead into his warm eyes. 

Damen stared back at him for a long moment, seeing the worry return to Laurent’s face. 

“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” Damen asked. 

“Do we need to?” 

“Do you want to?” 

“No. But you do.” 

“This isn’t about me.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” 

Damen blinked back at Laurent, surprised by the sudden turn of events. Perhaps he had expected Laurent to open himself up as he had the night before, but Laurent was convinced to keep his nightmares to himself. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“None of this would be happening if you weren’t here right now,” Laurent stated like it was obvious. 

“Do you wish I wasn’t?” 

Laurent furrowed his brow. “No, that’s not…I want you to be here.” I want you to stay, Laurent wanted to say, but he couldn’t. 

Damen smiled at him, taking a strand of Laurent’s hair between his fingers. “I’m happy to hear that. After all, now is all that matters, right?” 

Laurent forced a smile onto his face. “Right.”


	6. Sweet and Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent blinked his eyes open to take in the late afternoon light. He felt Damen’s soft breath on his neck and for a moment he was uncertain what had awakened him. Then he heard it: a set of three solid knocks on the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a hot minute, but the semester is finally over (and I have officially graduated with my BA--Yay!) and I now have the summer free until grad school starts in the fall so I'll be wrapping this story up in another chapter or so. Thank you for your patience and as always your comments inspire me!

As Laurent slowly let Damen into his life, the days began to take on new meaning. Laurent looked forward to going to bed every evening knowing that Damen’s warm body would be lying beside him. He closed his eyes each night anxious for the morning to come, wanting to look over in bed beside him and be greeted by Damen’s kind eyes and soft smile. He loved the feel of Damen’s hands on his body, Damen’s lips on his neck, the scent of Damen in his hair and on his skin.  


In the back of his mind, Laurent still knew that this was all only temporary. One day, the coast guard would come to the door, or the phone would ring, and Damen would pack his bags and get on his boat and sail away. Laurent pressed the thought from his mind, choosing instead to focus on the here and now, which usually involved Damen’s arm wrapped around his waist, or carding through his hair as they lay on the couch reading.  


Work also took on new meaning for Laurent. No longer was he reading manuscripts in order to fill his mind with stories and forget about his own suffering. Instead, he began to find more than just toil, but enjoyment in the stories, sharing snippets with Damen here and there.  


Damen also seemed to be adjusting to sharing space with Laurent just fine. He had moved his things from the guest house into Laurent’s bedroom and taken up more domestic chores in addition to the maintenance work that Laurent had given him to pay for his room and board when he first arrived. If Damen ever thought about leaving, Laurent was unable to tell, though he felt that the idea of leaving must have been in the back of Damen’s mind just as prevalently as it was in his own. Laurent’s heart stopped every time the phone rang, fearing that this would be the call that took Damen away, but Damen’s gentle laughter on the line as he conversed with the local grocer or postal worker would always still his anxiety.  


Such was the case on a particularly snowy afternoon. Damen had been staying with Laurent long enough that the hard of winter had begun to truly settle in. Several feet of snow covered all surfaces and the air was bitterly cold and dry. Laurent’s attention was jolted out of the manuscript he was reading as he heard the old landline in the kitchen ring. He made to move from beneath the warm blanket under which he was bundled, but Damen held out his hand to Laurent, rising from where he sat with Laurent’s feet resting in his lap, indicating that Laurent should stay put while he went to answer. Laurent gave him a soft smile as Damen’s fingers carded through his hair as he walked past toward the kitchen. He strained his ears to hear the conversation, only relaxing when Damen identified the voice on the other end of the line as Laurent’s closet neighbor (who still lived almost an hour away).  


After the heavy snow had begun to set in, Damen had made his services as a handyman and errand boy known to the other residents of Laurent’s small town in order to bring in some cash to compensate for his inability to do outside work given the weather conditions. Laurent had insisted that it was unnecessary, but since Damen mostly used the money to spoil Laurent and make repairs to the house Laurent tried not to complain.  


“Another customer?” Laurent teased when Damen returned from the kitchen.  


Damen smiled at him. “It would seem that this town’s gossip network is better than Yelp. I’ve been recommended for some interior home repairs.”  


“Such an entrepreneur.”  


Laurent lifted his legs as Damen came to sit back on the couch again, picking up the beaten book he was currently reading. Damen sat closer to Laurent’s torso this time so that Laurent’s legs straddled Damen’s lap like a seatbelt, strapping him to the couch. He leaned over Laurent’s chest, looking at him expectantly.  


Laurent had become accustomed to the various ways in which Damen silently asked permission before breaking Laurent’s boundaries. This was one of those looks.  


Laurent set his manuscript aside, relaxing his head back into the couch cushions. “Yes,” he said softly.  


“May I?” Damen extended his hand to Laurent’s neck, his thumb stroking Laurent’s cheek.  


“Go on,” Laurent replied.  


With that, Damen leaned in until his lips met the flesh on Laurent’s neck just below his ear. He suckled the skin gently, knowing Laurent’s affinity for neck kisses and gentle affection in general.  


Beneath him, Laurent released a content sigh, wrapping an arm around Damen’s shoulders and pulling the weight of Damen’s upper body down on top of his chest.  


Damen’s hands slowly found their way around Laurent’s back, lifting him up off the couch so that his spine was in a graceful arc off the cushions, cradled in Damen’s grasp. His mouth continued to roam the expanse of Laurent’s neck, making his way down toward Laurent’s throat and drawing a soft moan from Laurent.  


"More?” Damen asked, running one of his hands down the side of Laurent’s body indicating his meaning.  


Laurent nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yes, I would like that.”  


Damen pulled the blanket off Laurent, partially covering Kastor and Auguste who were curled up on the rug as he dropped it on the floor. August let out an annoyed mewl and bounded up from the floor, looking back at Damen and Laurent pressing against each other on the couch before stalking away toward a quieter location to nap. Kastor swiveled his head to watch August leave the room and shortly followed after him, missing his cuddling companion.  


“Wow, so sorry didn’t mean to offend you,” Damen called after Kastor as he plodded out of the room, making Laurent’s chest shake as he laughed.  


With Kastor and August gone, Damen turned his attention back to taking Laurent apart. Laurent’s breath started to come in uneven gasps and breathy moans as Damen kissed at the base of his chin and then moved up to take Laurent’s lip with his own. His hands roamed lower on Laurent’s body, caressing the curve of his hip and gently massaging the growing firmness between his legs.  


On his part, Laurent had one hand wound in Damen’s hair, applying gentle tension to his scalp as he tugged. His other hand was fist in the cushions behind his head, his fingers clenching in time with the curling of his toes as Damen slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Laurent’s pants and took his cock in hand. Already half-hard from making out and groping, Laurent arched his back up into Damen’s touch and moaned into his mouth.  


Damen pulled his lips away from Laurent, kissing his neck several times before sliding down toward the end of the couch, pulling Laurent’s pants and undergarments down and off, tossing them on top of the blanket on the floor. He brought his hand back to Laurent’s cock, running this thumb across the pre-com slick head.  


Laurent pressed the side of his face into the couch cushions, trying not to let out just how much Damen’s touch made him lose his mind.  


“Can I pleasure you with my mouth?” Damen’s voice drew his attention.  
Laurent nodded again. “I make no guarantees,” he said, referencing how easily Damen could bring him to climax.  


“I do,” Damen replied before licking a stripe along the underside of Laurent’s cock.  


“Oh?” Laurent tried to sound like he didn’t feel like his heart was going to explode. “What’s that?”  


“Best orgasm of your life,” Damen smirked, swirling his tongue around the underside of the head. “Every time.”  


Laurent raised an eyebrow, cocking his head at Damen. “That’s a bold guarantee.”  


“Have I ever failed to deliver?”  


Laurent thought back to the innumerable times that Damen had brought him to the peak of pleasure since they had started sleeping together. Every time, Laurent thought it would never be able to live up to the last, but it always did and it always left him wanting more. He shook his head.  


“That’s what I thought,” Damen said smugly and gave up the use of his mouth to Laurent’s pleasure.  


Damen teased Laurent on the edge of orgasm for the better part of half an hour before finally giving in to Laurent’s ever more erratic and breathy moans and pleas. By the time Damen was finished with him, Laurent was a panting mess, strands of his hair sticking to his damp temples, his body flushed pink with pleasure. Damen pressed himself beside Laurent on the sofa, dismissing Laurent’s attempts to offer Damen relief for his own pressing erection.  


“Later,” came Damen’s soft voice in Laurent’s ear as he pulled the blanket over the top of them, wrapping his arms around Laurent’s body and pulling him close.  
Laurent smiled as Damen pressed his forehead against Laurent’s temple, assured that there would be a later, that there would be time, and he closed his eyes.

 

Laurent blinked his eyes open to take in the late afternoon light. He felt Damen’s soft breath on his neck and for a moment he was uncertain what had awakened him. Then he heard it: a set of three solid knocks on the front door. In the stillness of the house, they seemed to resound like explosions in a cave. Or at least they did in Laurent’s ears as the knot in his stomach curled and the spike of anxiety in his throat threatened to patch his mouth and asphyxiate him. Damen slumbered on through the disturbance, unbothered. Laurent’s brow furrowed. 

The last unexpected guest Laurent had received was Damen. He seriously doubted there was another Damen standing on his doorstep this time around.  


Laurent slowly extricated himself from Damen’s grasp, rising to find Kastor sitting in front of the door. He looked over at Laurent, his brown eyes expectantly waiting for Laurent to reveal the source of the strange noise. The compassion and comfort in those eyes, a comfort Laurent has only earned recently through scratches behind the ears and hamburger slipped under the table made his heart ache. He approached the door, taking the handle in his palm. His palm was cold with sweat, the metal handle even colder, radiating the chill on the other side of the door. Laurent slowly opened the door, peaking out at the blinding white landscape and the man dressed in dark coat and boots who stood out against the brightness. The sight of him made Laurent cold and lightheaded. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it was dry.  


“Mr. Vere,” the man said in greeting. “Might I come in?”  


”Jord,” Laurent addressed him. “Yes, of course.” He tries to force congeniality into his voice but it’s colder than the air around them. “What brings the Coast Guard to my door?” he asked as Jord stepped in, greeting Kastor’s excited sniffs with a gentle pet. 

At this point, Damen has stirred and propped himself up on the couch. “Who is it?” he asked, bleary with sleep.  


”Damen?” Jord asked.  


Damen nods. 

“Jord. I’m here on behalf of the Coast Guard.” 

Damen perked up at Jord’s response, but as his face rose, Laurent’s fell even more. “Oh, good, I’ve been waiting for news.” Damen made his way over to meet Jord and Laurent takes his chance to exit the room and sit in the kitchen where he can hear but doesn’t have to see the joy on Damen’s face, trying to put as much distance between himself and this reality as possible.  


Laurent only half listened but he hears what he expected to hear. Damen’s boat is fixed but the weather is too poor and the harbor too iced over for such a small craft to travel. He’ll have to wait anywhere from a few weeks to a few months for a melt in order to be able to make it far enough south to be safe from a cold snap while on the water. This is what Laurent knew would happen. He keeps reminding himself that this—Damen—has always had an expiration date. 

Laurent heard the door shut finally and Damen walking down the hall to find him. Laurent is cold and his mind is fuzzy with emotions. He does not want to talk, or to think, or to be. 

August climbed into Laurent’s lap, sensing his agitation, and Laurent began to absently pet him. He is aware in the back of his mind that Damen is saying something to him, but he can’t find the ability to focus.  


“I think I’m going to lie down for a while,” he said, not knowing whether he has interrupted Damen and not really caring. He stood, carrying August in his arms, making his way toward the bedroom. He can feel Damen’s presence begin to follow him, so he added, “Alone.” He turned back to look at Damen, not really seeing him. “Later,” he said quietly.  


_If there is a later. If there can ever be a later. But for now, I need to be alone. To remember what it’s like. For later. When you’re gone. And I’m alone again._  


As Laurent shut the bedroom door behind him, he felt the burning stream of tears on his cheeks. Silently, he shamed himself for allowing himself to fall so hard for Damen. As with most matters of the heart in his life, he hadn’t truly realized how much he had let himself become consumed. Yes, he knew Damen was going to leave and he thought he was prepared. He thought he was distant enough, but at this moment Laurent couldn’t feel closer to heartbreak. He couldn’t feel closer to the vortex of emptiness that had consumed him before, and Damen wasn’t even gone yet. 

He climbed onto the bed, Auguste leaping from his arms, prowling around the bed, watching Laurent. When Laurent final curled up on his side in a ball, August does the same, nestling his small, warm body against Laurent’s back. His soft purring is a stark contrast to Laurent’s shaking frame that trembles with every silent sob.


End file.
